APH: Clouds in the country of sun
by Yunelyon
Summary: Bad times are running all over the western world. But this time it's Italy that finds fimself in deep crisis as he deals with a big politic, economic and social mess. Will he be alone in it or will his family and friends be there to support him? - a report of Italy's current situation APH style. Slight Gerita


European Council, Bruxelles. 14/03/2013

"Very well, everyone" started England with a pained face, massaging with one hand the back of his neck. No one in the room looked brighter. "So, we were supposed to talk about a lot of problems we would have never found an agreement on like the Syrian issues. But yeah, forget it! Apparently, we have a much bigger problem up our sleeves to discuss about first." He raised his eyes to stare at an empty chair.

weeks earlier 25/02/2013

The sun was shining bright and warm in Venice. Much a relief when mingled with the sharp, cold winter air. On Italy's wooden table, placed in the center of the living room, on a white doily, stood a beautiful maze of flowers. They shone wonderfully in that light, which, given the time, filled the hole room. They were a gift supposed to sweeten the host's mood. "Germany, they're beautiful. Thank you!" Exclaimed Italy as Germany entered the door, bouquet straight up in hand so he'd see it right away. "How providential, I was going to buy some later. They'll do wonders in the new vase I bought for the table. Oh, Lud, you're always so sweet!" so basically the flowers had fulfilled their mission. Now, both the German and Italian men were around that very table enjoying a fish based lunch, white wine going with it."You seem very calm Italy. I thought I'd find you a lot more nervous." "Is this the reason you dropped you mourning duties and appointments to come and have lunch with me?" "Well, I know it's a very delicate moment for you and I wanted to be close if you needed support and..." "Germany, they're just political elections. We all have them every 4-5 years or so." but Italy's smile met a more doubtful expression. Well, it's not like he couldn't understand his worries. The Italian financial crisis had just started getting better with the acceptance of the politic of "austerity" (which by now characterized the hole western world). But as soon as things started looking better the government fell leaving the whole country guideless and extremely poor. Yesterday and today were election day, however this was hardly any relief, not only for Italy, but for Europe a whole. Now that they were all tied together by the union and the euro, whatever good or bad thing happened to one of them would drag the others along. Problem was that all the country's misery had fueled populism and recklessness. And among the choises, as a top rated in polls, was the gaffe champion and disagreeable ex prime minister Silvio Berlusconi. All Europe had tried to warn Italy that it would have been a terrible mistake to have him run the country again, as he was one of the main responsible, along with his party, of the country's crisis in the first place. Italy understood it well, however, he wasn't all his citizens, whom could freely vote for whoever they preferred; and so Italy couldn't halt him just like that. He and his brother were gambling so much, and this of course brought a lot of pressure and stress in the last months. Germany had been tactful enough to come and check on Italy's state of pressure on the big day. "I'm fine, really. I don't even have much to do today. I'm glad, this way I was able cook you something good. Lately we're all in a rush." "About it, this "risotto alla pescatora" is really delicious!" "Thank you. Just wait to try the "impepata di cozze" then; it came out really swell." While smiling Italy took a glance at the clock: 14:00 p.m. Meaning only one more hour to collect votes and then the counting of the sheets to for the winner would begin. A few hours or so past as the two of them chatted, drank coffee and cleaned up. It was all so pleasant, but the time at which Germany kept checking repeatedly the clock had to come. "you have to go, don't you?" "No, it's ok. I had decided to spend the day with you, anyway. I already told my boss I wouldn't attend the conferences appointed for today." "but it's important, isn't it? You should go. You already forfeited your full morning to be with me and, really, I'll be fine." Germany gave one more look at the time, considering. "You sure?" "Positive. Actually...I'd rather stay alone now and, you know, sort things out." he gave a big smile wile Germany studied him a second. "...you know, at the times of the war YOU would have begged ME to stay." "Times and things change and we change along them, I guess." Said Italy passing a hand through his brown hair, slightly flushed by the awe and proud way Germany had looked at him. "then I'll take my leave. Call me when you know the results." "I don't think you'll need my call to know." True enough, Germany thought as he opened the door and halted on the entrance. Italy approached him and leaned on his chest holding the door with one hand. "Hey, Germany...what if that guy is elected again?" Germany understood immediately where that was going and cupped Italy's face with both hands placing a quick kiss on his lips. "That will change nothing between us. It would be preferable if not, but if that's the case we'll discuss about it." How does he do it? Italy sighed, smile back in place. How could he be always both: sweet and pragmatic at the same time? That alone was enough to blow his mind away. "...however...if he calls frau Merkel "una culona inchiavabile" again, I swear I'll personally punch him in the face." Italy giggled "I won't be the one to stop you."

As soon as Germany left Italy felt suddenly very lazy. He decided to turn the TV on; he'd follow the counting of the sheets constantly as he did else. So he decided to sketch, glass of wine in hand and cigarette on. An hour later they were at 10%. Every now and then a big blue graphic was shown. On it, all the symbols of the different parties and the percentage they had gathered until that moment. Man, maybe he had lifted his elbow a bit too much with that wine, first at lunch and now. He was starting to feel sleepy. He left everything on the table and relaxed on the couch. He started meditating on the actual scores. One of the main parties, the PD, seemed to be in head. If they won, would it be good? Well, they apparently had a pretty good program, that would have definitely helped the country, of this he was sure. Their flaw? They lacked the authority and the charisma to keep up with more showoff figures. their leader, Pierluigi Bersani, was a good and responsible man. Not involved in any scandal what so ever, which by now, seemed to be actually strange for a politician. But maybe TOO professional for Italians to appreciate; if he had just one forth of Berlusconi's charismatic power he'd have won already. Second in line was the big man himself: Berlusconi and his PDL. What to say? He had been in charge for over ten years and last year he had been forced away by the President for his failures, leaving the country on the edge and guided temporarily by a very pragmatic and well known university professor of economy Mario Monti. The professor had acted very fast, probably though not in the best way, giving some breath to the alarming financial conditions and gaining a lot of respect from some of the most influent European political figures of the day like Holland and Angela Merkel. But then, the unexpected, or to better say: the "unexpected" by any reasonable political system; the completely "expected" by Italians. He came back. He convinced those of his faction to distrust the professor and make the government fall; soon after, the news that he would be running for the next elections. But as serious as he looked like, even Monti didn't really like the way he was put aside, and decided to run for the elections himself (LCM party) presenting his figure as the man who had given some respectability to the country again. But this wasn't all. There was also someone else to keep a constant eye on: the so called "5 stars movement" (M5S). Long story short: a big time comedian, Beppe Grillo, decided that things sucked in Italian politics and created a political movement led and followed by a bunch of angry kids with close to zero experience. The aim was to give back the politic life to the citizens and take it away from the old vultures filled with privileges and soaked in scandals that had characterized the politic world in the last twenty years. But they were disorganized, unqualified and loud. They felt more like a group of rebels that just wanted to chop everyone's head than else. There were also a bunch of secondary and quite non influential parties as well, but Italy couldn't even come up with those because ahh, the couch...so comfy, the TV speakers felt like a nice lullaby...his eyes were slipping closed and...zzzzz.

He woke up suddenly, blinking eyes fast trying to work out his surroundings. It was late. The pleasant afternoon sun had been replaced by a pitch black sky. Yawning he checked his watch. Shit! it was already 23:27. He had slept practically all day. Passing a hand from his face to his hair he got up realizing the TV was still on. His consciousness came back all at once. by now they were almost done counting the sheets. They were at 95%. The lady on TV said something about confusion. What? What confusion? More reports from several journalists. This was starting to get him nervous. What was going on, already?! He mentally kicked himself for falling asleep and missing everything. then the monitor lit up with the blue graphic again. Italy dropped the remote control and his jaw flapped open. Shit! Shit! Shit! this wasn't supposed to happen! No one had actually won. The three main parties, PD PDL and M5S, had practically tied! In other words none of them alone could lead the country alone and form a government. Italy, whom had found himself guide-less for over a month would be unguided for months more. One of the worst case scenarios had just become reality.

Paper flying, people running, phones blowing, data incoming, data going. This mess was nothing new for the financial world. but now it had turned into an uproar. England answered hysterically his phone. "Hello?!" "how are things your edge?" "How could they possibly be, Yankee idiot? This Italian mess has been a shake for all Europe's stocks!" "Not only Europe...Wall street has lost 1.5% points. I hate to through it on Italy but...call the others. We have to understand what's going on!" "Right away!"

Rome, the day after

It didn't take much, really, for Italy to be certain that if things had seemed bad the day before now they were terrible! Surrounded by lots of worried, confused and angry countries, he was alone in the spotlight. His brother had left him alone as well, saying he didn't feel well at all. Why did he act like this? He felt like a rag too, and yet here he was. To come he had stuffed himself of aspirins that morning; but a little longer in that crowd and their effect wouldn't last much, he knew. "Italy, what are you planning to do now?" "Italy this could be defined the victory of the two clowns, Berlusconi and Grillo, how do you justify it?" "Italy, we need to know you'll be stable soon! Otherwise this could result into a disaster for the hole euro-zone!" "Yes, yes. Please, one at the time. Of course I'm already discussing things through with all the main political forces and..." "How can you accept that a criminal inquired for such scandals could represent you once again?" "Why has there been such a flop from prof. Monti?" "Italy, is this result a direct no to austerity?" "...I never said such a thing. I just want to discuss about some terms for real economical recovery and..." "Italy, aren't you scared by the extremists of the M5S?" "Can we talk about "Italian Spring"?" He was starting to sweet hard, he could feel his skin growing pale. "...What are you talking about?! Nothing like it! These people aren't extremists like that!" Suddenly he felt his arm getting tugged and in a few moments he found himself away from the majority of that crowd. America had come to save him. "Dude, you look terrible! How are you?" "Thanks for the rescue! I FEEL terrible and this is a nightmare!" "Yeah, I can imagine." He found himself in a room with England, France, Belgium and Germany. "...You need to ask me some questions, don't you?" America gave an apologetic look. "Yeah...sorry about it, but you really need to tell us something." France came running to hold him. "Mon chère, qu'est-ce vais tu faire? How did you get yourself in such a mess? Big brother told you to..." He kept talking but Italy didn't physically feel like listening. He turned to gaze at England which exchanged with a serious "Greetings Italy" and Belgium that addressed him a quick smile and hand waving. "France, if you would please..." said Germany low and strict. France immediately unwinded and had Italy sit down in a nearby chair. Germany looked at him for a long second. There was care and some worry in those blue eyes, Italy could tell, but he kept it hidden behind that composed and professional look he wore so well on duty. "Italy we know you must be worried and troubled yourself. But we need you to explain us what you intend to do now. We need some guarantees." "I..." However England interrupted "We need you to understand, Italy, that you aren't Greece or Spain. You are one of the G8, your northern industries are some of the most highly productive of Europe. Greece and Spain we could handle...if you fall on us, it would be a calamity for all." He didn't feel right: Throat dry and pulpy, sight bluring on England's figure, head spinning and clouding, heart rate slowing. "...Yes, of course I realize it. And now I'm studying the best outcome from this situation. To represent the country there will still be professor Monti at the upcoming UE council in March. By then we should be already able to tell you more detailed informations on how me and my brother intend to proceed. But let me assure you that I am perfectly in condition to keep my word on what we had previously agreed on and..." he couldn't do this. He needed to get to the toilets for air, water, a second of pause, to recompose. And he needed it NOW! So he got up from the seat trembling. "I'm sorry but I...I need..." His Knees gave in, fainting on the floor. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear the others rushing to assist him. But he couldn't take it, he welcomed the slumber, just let it surround him, make him feel nothing else.

And that's how he found himself in bed, sick. In the end, probably...surely, the smartest had been Romano. Germany told him, as he came to visit, that they kept talking about his conditions as the PPE kept meeting in Bruxelles for other business. How embarrassing could it be? He tried to picture it. Everyone talking about him, pitting him too as all there was left of him was an empty chair! He needed to get better soon. And as a few weeks went by, things didn't seemed to get better at all, only worse! He was still in bed, feeling ill. The professor menaced, if the PD goes with the 5 stars movement I won't give my approval to the government. And Berlusconi had just been sentenced to one years of jail also under trial for "minor prostitution", remaining however one of the most influential political men in Italy. "we'll have 100% of the votes!" The newspaper read, on a declaration of Grillo. No, the M5S wasn't just happy with almost winning at its first try, it wanted everything. He could see it, in front of his eyes. The clown smile was stretching far too boldly into a tight grin. Italy shivered, it was getting scary. And cherry on top, something that hadn't happened in over 800 years, of course, happened now: The Pope gave his resignation. In the dark room he turned once and again, feeling feverish. Why didn't the aspirin have any effect? ...He felt so alone! He didn't have a political guide, nor a religious one, his historical buildings were falling apart, one of his centers of scientific research had burned down to crisp, museums and sports centers were closing due to high fees they could not pay. He didn't have anything anymore. and he knew that right now, even the EU was no certainty! His dear Germany was getting ill seen again, by those countries that had trouble keeping up with his radical line. Not only his politicians, but more and more all over Europe were having enough of austerity and increasing poorness. As a nation, he could feel it underneath his skin: people was growing tired, was growing angry and confused. He curled up more in his blankets, it was getting cold. A cold, dark stingy winter that seemed to be devouring everything. And you could think only about it, although spring would eventually come. Because spring would come, sooner or later! And he could wait for it...but could the union? Could it's people? How many would be left behind to die in that chill? He was a nation, an important one too! One that had lived for over 2000 years. Possible there was nothing he could do but watch? "Germany, I'm scared!" He whispered to himself sobbing. He wanted his friends to be there next beside him. And they had come, in these weeks. His family tried to stay close, despite being so busy. First had Germany, and then France and some of the others as well. America came too. Maybe being a bit too noisy for his headache though "don't worry pal! You're a great guy, and I'm sure you'll get better in no time! when you do, you're officially invited at my place for a marathon of Just Dance 4 and ice cream eating!" France " Mon petit chere! It kills my heart to see you like this! Don't worry big brother won't let you fall!" "Mi niño, I know it's hard, I'm in an unhappy situation like you are. But you and Roma are splendid and brilliant boys, I trust that you'll figure something out." Germany was being particularly sweet with him since he was like this. One day he had caressed his hair tenderly and whispered "I have trust in you Italy, you'll make it. More than us you have the gift of fantasy and lightness." Even Switzerland had sent him a neat letter with some kinds suggestions on what he could do. Others also sent him words of trust and support. for some reason, they all still believed in him, that he would get up soon and better, on his own, with them just watching his back. They were all probably scared. He hadn't forgotten the agitation and the yells, the first days after the elections. But now, worried as they were, they weren't really pushing, but inciting him to pull up and show what he was made of. Even if those words were bad lies, they felt warm, now. He stood a bit up, brushed with a handkerchief his sweaty forehead. And as he difficultly gulped down some water he thought, that it had taken so many wars, and hater and destruction to build up this big, caring family! It needed a lot of tweaking but you couldn't fix what was already broke. He didn't want it to break and would do anything to prevent it, despite what a group of angry populist politicians said! All this had to survive, it was worth it, for him and his family! That would have been a really difficult year for the Italy bross and Europe all. And as much as he would have preferred to just crawl up in a spot and cry for help to Germany and France he knew this time he would really have to get out of this on his own; that he had to pay the price of his being irresponsible and foolish for so many years now. He always had someone to keep him up, be it Austria, France, Spain, Germany or even America, now it was him who had to stay up to prevent his dears and people from falling. He was tired of staying in bed, it was time to pick up and start reacting as difficult as it felt. Head in hand and a big blanket draping from his shoulders he headed for the living room. He didn't know how this would end but he had to give it his all! "Hello, brother? How are you feeling today? Yeah, I don't really feel well either. Would you like to come over, as you feel a bit better, so we can talk a little bit together about things?" Heh, was this the true meaning of growing up? He bitterly smiled. Strange he hadn't actually seen it up until now.


End file.
